Heartbreak Cake (32 page)

“I am, but who doesn’t love The Beatles? Just classic stuff. I’m partial to their early work. What about you?”

He climbs down the ladder carefully, his long lean legs moving him quickly down until he’s facing me on the ground.

“I’m a Paul McCartney girl, 100 percent.”

“I can see that.” He takes a peach from his basket and gives it a shine with his shirt and hands it to me. “It’s the last of the season. These aren’t nearly as sweet as those August peaches, but we’re going to have a big peach dinner at the end of the month to celebrate the beginning of the grape harvest.”

Taking a bite, the peach snaps and the sweet juice fills my mouth and drips down the side of my hand. “It’s perfectly ripe.”

Noah doesn’t smile, just tilts his head at me questioningly. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to tell you something. So here I am.” Noah, gives me a strange look and waits.

“I forgot to tell you that I think I’m falling in love with you. I know that may sound weird after so many years, but I think about you all day long. And about the amber in your eyes. It always made me think of gold confetti flakes or Goldschläger, depending on what kind of mood I was in,” I joke, and I think I see the tiniest of grin form on his lips.

“I love how safe I feel in your arms and how honest and strong you are. I love that you were my friend during a time when no one wanted to be my friend. But you were. I know what I want now, and it’s you.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, taking in everything I said. “You’re welcome, I guess. That’s nice to hear, but it’s a little late.”

Noah turns away from me, and I’m crushed by his reaction. But I knew coming here and thinking I could rekindle something with him was a high risk.

“Do you ever think of me?” I ask.

“Never,” he says tersely, grabbing his water bottle and backpack from the ground. “I don’t make it a habit to think of people who disappear on me. I’ve got to get back to work, Indira. It was nice to see you, but I’d rather not see you again. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do!” I rush over to him and stand in front of him, blocking his way. “And I knew you would say that, so before I go, I wanted to give you this as a good bye gift.”

I hand him a book of recipes I made for him with all of his favorites from Cake Pan. “Your mom told me you still talk about my Lemon Lavender muffins. They’re in there. And I also included the dulce de leche bread pudding you loved. I always promised to show you how to make your favorites, so this is the least I can do.”

He takes the book and thanks me quietly, flipping through it quickly before stuffing it in his backpack.

“I know I don’t deserve a second chance with you. You came into my life at a really bad time. And I hurt you. But, there hasn’t been a day that passes that I don’t think of you. Or wish I could share a recipe with you. Or have you test it for me in that way that you do.”

“You mean in the way where I can eat an entire cake in one sitting.”

“Yup,” I laugh. “In that special gluttonous way.” I reach for his hand. “Can we maybe start over as friends? I’d love to come up and get to know you and your family, and we can be friends. No pressure. The past is the past, and I apologize for it, but I’d like the chance to get to know you again, not start up where we left off, but just start over. What do you think?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Indira, I can’t be your friend.”

“I understand,” I say, my heart low, knowing I did my best and that was all I could do. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I just had to come and take a chance,” I say, proud of myself for being able to put my heart out there even while he was clearly rejecting me.

I try not to run back to my car, and instead, I walk quickly past him so we don’t have to make small talk.

“Indira, I can’t be your friend,” he says behind me.

“I heard you, Noah,” I say, a lump beginning to form in my throat as I look back at him.

“I can’t be your friend because then I couldn’t do this, could I?”

Noah takes two big steps toward me and pulls me close to him, brushing his hand though my hair and running a finger down my cheek before leaning in for a slow, long overdue, highly anticipated, warm kiss.

It’s like hot apple pie. A’ la mode, of course.

My head swirls, and I melt into his lean frame, feeling like I hadn’t just spent three years away from him.

“Next time we get into an argument, you don’t just leave and move to the South of France. We talk about it. Try to come to an understanding,” Noah teases me, and I blush under his gaze.

“Alright, I think I can do that. No more trips to Europe for a while.”

I wrap my arm around his waist as we both make our way to the restaurant where his mom is waiting for us, and best of all, lunch.

“Oh and by the way,” Noah says, “I noticed the Tres Leches recipe is not in the book you gave me. What’s up with that? You holding out?”

“That’s a family recipe. You gotta earn it,” I say, batting my lashes flirtatiously at him.

“Let’s see what we can do about that, then.”

Noah pulls me closer to him, and we walk through his family farm up toward the Peach Keeper.

And our future.

The End

Acknowledgements

Writing
Heartbreak Cake
could not have been done without the encouragement of all the wonderful people in my life who inspired me, bought me cookies, poured me wine, and pushed me to keep going ‘til I got to The End.

First, I must thank my editor and writing buddy Lucie Simone, whom I met through a Chick Lit writing group in Los Angeles. I honestly couldn’t have finished this novel without her help, support and encouragement. Thank you for believing in me and in
Heartbreak Cake.

I’d like to thank my sisters Krissy and Nalini who inspire me every day to never give up on my dreams. Watching them both chase their own aspirations has ultimately motivated me to follow my own. As an aside, I forgive you both for hiding behind the couch when we were kids so you could scare the crap out of me when I would try to read
The Baby-Sitter’s Club
. Love you guys!

To my parents, Dean and Thelma Arora, thank you for showing me how to be strong and how to take risks. Your stories of creating your own American Dream have always inspired me to leap for greatness and kept me centered in the belief that anything is possible. Thanks Mom and Dad!

To my stepsister Christina Paszitsky, thanks for being my partner-in-crime during our teen years and being a wonderful confidante as we became “grown-ups” with creative dreams. Thanks for making me laugh and making it perfectly okay that I occasionally like Cheez Whiz with my crackers.

To all my wonderful, smart and unique girlfriends. Thank you all for years of hilarious (and not so hilarious) dating stories, wine & cheese nights, and for your unwavering hope and optimism each one of you have when it comes to finding your version of Happily Ever After. It’s why I love to write and read Chick Lit.

And a huge big and loving thank you to my little family: Brandon and Greyson. You boys make life interesting, that’s for sure!

Thank you to my friend and confidante, Brandon, for pushing me to take the time to disappear and finish my book. Thanks for buying me an industrial sized amazing coffeemaker that has made making coffee a joy. And thank you so much for being there with wine and plenty of late night conversation when I needed a break and someone to talk to. Thank you, B!

And thank you to my son, Greyson, who inspires me every day with his sweet smile, and who melts my heart when he runs to me—book in hand—and asks me to, “read mama.” I hope I can instill in you the purity of pursuing your passion, whatever that may end up to be.

And finally, to all the writers of women’s fiction and Chick Lit who have inspired me and given me great solace in the pages of your books. Thank you for creating lively, snappy, and wonderful worlds where finding yourself as a woman and person is what it is
all
about—and yeah, sometimes we do wear kick ass shoes and drink pink cosmos. But who doesn’t?

About the Author

Cindy Arora was a staff writer at
The San Gabriel Valley Tribune, The Orange County Register
and
Sacramento Magazine
. She’s been published in
Saveur, Tasting Table, Orange Coast Magazine
,
Fodor’s,
and her novella, Christmas at Mulberry Inn, is featured in the 2013 anthology,
Merry & Bright
. She’s also mama to an adorable little boy, a feminist, a whiskey enthusiast, and proud to call herself a Chick Lit author.
Heartbreak Cake
is her debut novel. To learn more about Cindy, please visit her website at www.cindyarora.com.